


Memories

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Background Rowena MacLeod, Bad Parent John Winchester, Cage memories, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Curses, Dean being a little shit, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mary is confused, Pining, Protective Dean Winchester, Repressed Memories, Sex, Sick Sam Winchester, Soulmates, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Torture, Witches, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Sam gets hit by a curse, one that releases the memories repressed over the years. Watching his little brother stuck in a coma, Dean has to make a big decision. To save his baby brother, and risk losing him forever, or to let him die.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 71
Kudos: 282





	1. The Curse

‘Get out of the way.’ Dean’s aware that he sounds rude, even ruder when it was accompanied by shoving his Mother out of the way, but it was instinct. Castiel, knowing him better than Mary did, was already moving out of the way, just as Dean dropped down to his knees next to his little brother, looking Sam up and down, trying to understand why his brother wasn’t awake, wasn’t scolding Dean for how he addressed their Mom.

‘It’s a curse.’ Castiel said, although it was hesitant, like he feared Dean’s reaction. He should, anyone that touched Sammy, anyone that even thought about hurting him, was going to die. Dean would see to it. The Hunter moved, cradling his brother’s head carefully, brushing away the girl-hair that Dean always teased Sam for. When his fingers moved down to the pulse-point, Dean took a deep breath in relief, feeling the steady beat beneath his fingers.

‘Where is she?’ He snarled, barely stopping the anger that threatened to burst. Castiel was angry as well, Dean knew that, but it wasn’t the same. The Angel watched the Hunter rise, Dean not missing the look of momentary fear that crossed Castiel’s face. Whether it was fear for himself, or fear for the Witch tied up in the other room that had dared try and hurt Sam, well. Dean couldn’t quite tell, nor did he care.

‘Through the door. Dean,’ The Hunter paused, having already moved towards the door, briefly glancing back to his friend. But as he did so, his gaze was drawn back to Sam, still motionless on the floor.

‘Be careful.’ Castiel finished lamely, and they both knew that wasn’t what he wanted to say. Dean forced himself to calm down, to loosen the grip on his knife, to compose himself before he stepped into the room. He allowed himself the time to study the surroundings, the wardings on the walls, the language that he believed to be Latin etched into some of the furniture.

They knew very little, just that the curse caused a person to fall into a coma-like state for five days, and when they woke, they started to burn up. It became a sort-of fever-arousal situation, and nothing could stop the fever from killing the person. They were dead by the eighth day.

‘You won’t get anything out of me.’ Green eyes finally fell onto the woman in the room, tied up to the chair with rope, but he also noted the markings on the chair-legs. Castiel had been careful to make sure she wouldn’t escape. The bruising over her pale face stood out, angry reds and purples, blood dried from a cut on her head. When Dean had got the phone call from Castiel, the Witch had been unharmed. So, Dean thought with a slight smirk, Castiel had been just as angry as Dean was currently feeling.

‘That’s alright.’ Dean pulled the knife from his belt, stepping closer. She was probably mid-forties, the growing frown lines indicating her age. Then again, Rowena was hundreds of years old, yet she didn’t look it. The mention of the Witch, his secret Ace, the card he was holding that meant he didn’t need any information from this bitch that was tied up, made him grin even wider.

‘I don’t need any information from you.’ Rowena was heading to the Bunker as they spoke, and if anyone could reverse the curse, it would be her. Dean, although slightly worried that his baby brother was lying motionless outside the room, could manage. His grin seemed to momentarily falter the Witch in front of him, whose puzzled face gave away how little she really knew.

‘See, I’ve got a Witch on my side. One of the most powerful you’ll ever meet.’ If Rowena heard him say that, she would never let him live it down. Luckily, he wasn’t planning on her ever finding that out. Moving the knife so it rested lightly on the woman’s thigh, he grinned up at the now shaking woman.

‘You can’t break it. It’s impossible.’ Lots of things were impossible, like coming back from the dead, beating the Devil, curing a Demon. Yet here they were, Dean about to kill the Witch who cursed his brother, who killed thirteen people with the curse she had placed.

‘Reverse it.’ Dean simply said, because if Sam woke up and found out Dean hadn't given her a chance, he would be mad. Those puppy-dog eyes worked surprisingly well, even if their relationship had been strained at the moment. Dean knew it was his fault, that ever since he had been a Demon, Sam had found it hard to trust him. Hell, the Trials had probably been the cause. And Dean wasn’t going to let anything else draw them apart, especially not this bitch.

‘I can’t. Not even if I wanted to.’ She hissed, and Dean pulled the Colt from his waistband so quickly she didn’t even have time to plead. The shot rocked her back, chair hitting the ground, blood slowly pooling from the hole in her chest. Dean stood, replaced both weapons, and turned when Castiel opened the door to check on him.

‘Let’s get Sammy back to the Bunker.’

Dean noticed how he could lift Sam without needing Castiel’s help, pressing a hand to his brother’s ribs and flinching when he felt how prominent they were. He knew Sam had been focused on getting him back, on everything with Amara, on defeating the British Men of Letters. But Dean had been slacking on his role of big brother, he thought, chucking the keys to Baby in Castiel’s direction, manoeuvring Sam’s limbs into the back of the Impala. He ducked in as well, placed Sam’s head in his lap, softly running his fingers through the locks of brown hair that he pretended he hated.

‘Ready?’ Castiel asked, glancing at him through the mirror. Mary was silent, her eyes flicking between the trio, but Dean ignored the inquisitive glances. Nothing came before Sammy, not even his Mom. From the very moment Sammy was put in his arms, from the moment he ran out of the house, Sam was priority number 1.

**

‘No.’ Dean snarled, shoving Rowena’s hands off of Sam’s flannel-covered shirt, refusing to believe what the Witch had said.

‘Dean…’ Rowena tried, even Mary looked willing to try and convince him, but Dean ignored them. Eventually, they both left, Castiel settling down on the edge of the bed. The news was hard to bear, Sam would be stuck in a coma for five days, reliving some of the memories his mind repressed. Dean didn’t need to be a genius to know that was bad, that whatever Sam had forgotten, it was probably for a good reason. Staring down at his baby brother, he thought to the second part of the curse.

‘But you know who Sam’s soulmate is, Dean.’ The elder brother tensed up, gripping Sam’s hand, wishing his brother would sit up, laugh everything off, or do the Winchester thing and pretend nothing was wrong. But that wouldn’t happen, when Sam did wake up, he would be stuck in a curse that only his soulmate could break. That only he could break.

‘I can’t do that to him.’ Sam was the good one. The one that had gotten the full-ride to Stanford, the one that had a future outside of Hunting. If Dean crossed that line, Sam would never forgive him. Worse, Dean might limit Sammy’s future to being with him, and he couldn’t do that. Sam deserved a better future than what Dean could offer.

‘He love’s you. Heaven made you soulmates for a reason.’ Castiel knew how Dean felt. That wasn’t the issue, the issue was his pale-faced brother, motionless on the bed. Because Dean would do it, they both knew that, Dean would be too selfish to let his brother die. He wouldn’t be able to stand seeing Sammy in pain, and he would do anything to stop it. And Dean would do it, knowing that when Sam broke from the curse that Rowena couldn’t break, he would never want to see him ever again.

‘Heaven’s full of dickheads.’ Castiel didn’t argue, watched as Dean’s hand moved to Sam’s chest, resting lightly over his heartbeat. Five days, for Sam to spend inside his own mind. Even if they hadn't been breaking apart before the curse, this spell was going to shatter and remnants Dean was desperately clutching at.


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary's confused, Castiel's concerned, Sam's about to learn a lot about his older brother

‘I’m confused.’ Mary began, seated in the library, staring up at the Angel in confusion. When she had seen how her eldest reacted to Sam being hurt, she had been concerned. Blue eyes stared right at her, and she could see the threat in them. If she tried to question what he had just said, Castiel wouldn’t hesitate to step in the way, his protection over her sons knew no limit.

‘Well, when one man really loves another…’ Rowena began, Castiel raising his head and shooting a glare that caused her to fall silent, but she looked smug. Mary was still trying to comprehend how her boys, her sons, were soulmates. And now, whatever this curse was, required one soulmate to break the others pain. She had a feeling that Castiel was sparing some of the details on how that had to be done, and truthfully, she didn’t want to think too hard about it.

But it was obvious. Anyone could see it, the way Dean looked at Sam. Sam, she wasn’t sure, he was better at hiding that. Even though he was more emotional, which she had figured out over her brief period at the Bunker, he was always reserved when he spoke about Dean. Something had happened, but nobody seemed to want to tell her everything.

‘Cas?’ Speaking of Dean, her eldest son appeared in the room, eyes heavy and hair messed, still in his clothes from the Hunt. He had barely left Sam’s side, refusing Mary when she offered to take watch. It stung, that her own son wouldn’t trust her with her child, but she hadn't said anything. After all, when she left them, they had been 4 years old and six months. Not the adult men she saw now.

‘Dean, is everything alright?’ The Angel was already turning to face Dean, concern taking over the glare that had been aimed at Rowena. Another thing she didn’t quite understand, why an Angel was living at the Bunker with the two of them. According to Castiel, he had pulled Dean out of Hell, and had later tried to do the same to Sam. The second one hadn't gone according to plan, but the details had been yet again skipped over.

‘Could you watch over Sammy? I… I need a shower.’ So, the Angel was trusted by Sam’s side, but she was not. The Angel’s face softened, a small smile forming on his face.

‘Of course. You should probably sleep as well, I can watch Sam.’ Dean looked ready to argue, before Castiel stood up, moving past him in the direction of the sleeping Hunter.

‘Thanks.’ Dean mumbled, before also turning, leaving Mary with more questions and no answers.

**

Castiel had been seated beside his friend for a while, watching Sam’s chest steadily rise and fall. He looked peaceful, but the Angel knew better than that, knew that the Curse would have bad effects on the younger Winchester. And, when he woke up, he had to be sane enough for Dean to explain why he had to do the next part, to break the curse that hovered over his head. If Castiel had needed to, which he luckily didn’t, he could have looked at Sam’s soul to see what the curse was. But Rowena had helped them, even if the answer wasn’t exactly what they were looking for.

“Bonding of soulmates”. Castiel mulled over the phrase, wondering why Heaven made such a big deal of the soulmate issue, wondering why it kept appearing in the lore. There seemed to be some things that affected soulmates, they were more likely to live longer, happier lives. Spells designed to find someone’s soulmate had been created, but not everybody had one. So, this curse was designed to kill, because not many knew who their soulmate was.

But the Winchester brothers were known to Heaven, the most famous soulmates ever to walk the Earth. It didn’t mean that it was easier on Dean, who Castiel knew was already beating himself up. Sure enough, as Dean walked in, Castiel could see the visible strain on his friend. Dark circles around his eyes, a hollow emptiness in his gaze, and the concern that bubbled under his expression.

‘How is he?’ They both knew Castiel knew as little as Dean, but if his friend required someone to believe in, someone to assure him everything would be okay, he could do that for Dean. Dean took a seat the other side of Sam’s still body, slowly reaching for his brother’s hand. He hesitated momentarily, like he expected Castiel to stop him, but the Angel just watched.

‘He shows no signs of distress, Dean.’ That was the best he could offer, because Castiel knew that whatever was going on inside Sam’s head, it probably wasn’t good. If he wanted, Castiel could enter the Hunter’s mind, but there wouldn’t be any benefit to it. The curse had to run its toll.

‘What if it’s the Cage?’ The unspoken topic, what happened to Sam in the Cage. Castiel had got glimpses of it when he took the burden of Sam’s insanity, had seen the state of the Cage when he had gone to retrieve the Winchester. From what he had seen, from the screams that had echoed all the way to Heaven, it had to be bad. Castiel wasn’t stupid, he knew what Michael and Lucifer could do, and if the memories were being unlocked, then Castiel didn’t know what he could do.

‘Rowena did say she was working on something.’ The bond between the younger Winchester and the Witch was an odd one, Castiel didn’t quite understand it, but he tried to. Rowena appeared to have a soft spot, was already scouring the laws for a way to replicate the wall that Death had put in Sam’s mind.

‘Will it work?’ There was, of course, the other unspoken issue. Mary had been the odd one out, the one that needed to understand the relationship between the brothers. The Angel knew that Dean would pick Sam over his Mother, would risk losing his relationship with her to save Sam. This was what the Angel thought about as he looked back down to Sam, who remained a statue on the bed.

‘Rowena will make it work.’

**

Sam was quite unsure what was going on. One moment, he was on a Hunt with Cas by his side, the two of them entering a building to chase down a Witch. Mary had been back-up, but she had hung back to make sure they weren’t closed in. But something had happened, a bright flash of light, and Sam felt it hit him. He heard Castiel shout his name, but his eyes suddenly felt too heavy, and he slipped to the ground. His last conscious thought was Dean, of the fact he hadn't yet apologised to his brother for all the things he had done wrong, for all the deaths he had caused.

When he next opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself standing in what appeared to be a long corridor. There were five doors, all on the same side, and one right at the end of the corridor, that said EXIT. Logic had him walking towards it, but as he passed by the first door, he hit something. Nothing. Stretching his hands out, the Hunter found an invisible wall, blocking him from moving further.

‘Dean? Cas?’ When neither name got a response, Sam slowly turned to look at the door. As his eyes focused on it, the room popped open, and he found himself tumbling in.

**

_‘Yes Sir.’ Dean glanced up at his Father, who was busy packing the Impala. Behind them, the Motel stood, and inside Room 63, his baby brother was curled up on one of the beds. He wanted nothing more than to return to him, to sort out the bruises and the bloody lip, but he couldn’t move away from his Father, not yet._

_‘You’ve got to sort him out, Dean. What six-year-old doesn’t speak?’ It was true, Sammy didn’t speak. But Dean could understand why, because as a child, Sam cried. It was usual, Dean saw other kids doing it, but John would get angry. He would shout, scream, until the vein on the side of his neck popped. One day, Dean had heard the words his father had spoken, the words that were screamed in Sam’s face. _

_‘YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED MY WIFE!’ _

_Dean didn’t believe it. Sam was just a baby, he couldn’t have done anything. But ever since those words, Sam hadn't made a sound. Nothing, not even a whisper. _

_‘Yes Sir.’ John gave a nod, handed him the cash that would get them through the next couple of days, before turning to the Impala. Now free, Dean scurried back to the Motel, opening the door to find Sam seated on the bed. He looked tired, eyes wide and hurt, the bloody lip standing out against his pale skin. _

_‘Hey Sammy. How about we get you cleaned up, and then have something to eat?’ His brother gave a nod, a brief smile to show Dean he was alright, and the elder fought the urge to get angry. Not with Sammy, but with John, who had left them. _

_Once Sam was tucked up in bed, Dean got to the bathroom in time to let the tears fall, slumping down on the other side of the wall and clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. Ugly sobs tore from his chest, tears rolling from his cheeks, the grimy bathroom offering the only comfort he was going to get. Dean couldn’t cry, John didn’t allow it, and Sammy had to think he was strong. _

_It took ten minutes until he managed to stop, standing up and scrubbing his face furiously, watching his skin turn red. Flicking the light off, he stepped back into the Motel room. He stripped down to boxers and a shirt, climbed under the sheets and turned his back to his brother. It was only moments later that he heard sheets ruffling, small feet padding across, his baby brother climbing under the sheets next to him._

_Dean rolled, offering his chest to his brother, who snuggled close to it, tangling their legs together. John told Dean he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t coddle Sam, but why not? And truthfully, Dean needed this as much as Sam did. _

_‘Love you, De.’ Sam murmured quietly, so quiet that Dean almost missed it. The elder wouldn’t admit that Sam’s hair got wet with tears after he spoke, and Sam would never tell. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) More chapters soon! Anything you specifically want to see, drop a comment below


	3. Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy Sam and Dean moments!!

Castiel paused in the doorway, glancing to the two Hunters in front of him. He had been with the Winchesters for a while, and if he had learnt anything, it was that they always managed to surprise him. Dean was slumped on the bed, head against his brother’s chest, one arm wrapped over Sam’s stomach. The Angel almost regretted waking him, telling his friend that they needed to have a talk.

Once Dean emerged, fully dressed and hair still slightly wet from the shower, Castiel got to the point.

‘We need to go back and interview the witnesses.’ Because they needed to know what would happen to Sam when he woke up from the Curse, and more importantly, anything they could do to help. Castiel saw the flare of panic that rose from Dean’s eyes, the despair of leaving his younger brother to fend off the curse himself.

‘I suggested that the two of us go.’ Castiel added the last bit, watched Dean’s eyes flick to Rowena, then to Mary. He knew one better than the other, but one was his Mother. Trust should come naturally, but it took time when it came to Sam. The Angel had always understood that, which was why he had been surprised that Dean had let him look after Sam at all.

‘I can watch Samuel.’ Rowena remarked, almost in a lazy fashion, not bothering to raise her head from the book she was currently studying. Dean’s gaze landed on her, holding it for a few seconds, almost as if he was trying to weigh up the options. Ever so slowly, the Hunter looked back to Cas, nodding.

‘I guess that could work. We’ll leave in ten.’ No doubt ten minutes for Dean to go back to Sam, to check him one last time before they left. The Angel didn’t miss the look of disappointment that Mary showed, the hurt of not being able to comfort either son. But he couldn’t help that situation, could only advise, and he knew that Dean wouldn’t be quick to trust when it came to looking after his brother.

**

_‘Sit him down, gently!’ Sam snapped, aggression lacing his tone. For once, John didn’t snap back, lowering Dean down and trying to avoid looking at the blood staining through his son’s shirt. Sam was pushing past him in an instant, removing the cloth and inspecting the wound, Dean groaning despite his unconscious state. The eldest Winchester stepped back as Sam prepped the needle, watched steady hands clean the blood away from the nasty scratch that would scar. _

_How Sam kept his hands steady, John didn’t know. Sam worked quietly, tongue poking out from between his lips, hands pressed onto Dean’s bare chest to steady the now-wriggling man. On the last stitch, Dean stirred, eyes opening and focusing almost immediately on Sam. The panic from earlier had gone, the false bravado dropping back onto his expression as he looked at his younger brother. _

_‘Sammy, always had good hands.’ Sam scoffed, but a light brush spread across his cheeks, and John felt his stomach twist in ugly ways. He’d always been harsh on his youngest child, but Sam did need to focus more, and John knew that the only reason he stayed was because of Dean. So, if John had to push them together for Sam to stay, he would do just that. _

_‘Shut it, Jerk. Take some painkillers.’ Dean ignored him, as he usually did, and swigged from the bottle of whiskey that Sam had used for the cut. Sam pouted, but didn’t scold his brother, finishing off the bandage and standing up. His hands were bloodstained, needle still in his grip, but he looked better now that Dean was back. Another thing, the two were co-dependent. Sometimes, it bothered John how much Dean would do for Sam, worrying that it would get his eldest hurt. _

_‘Thanks, Sammy.’ Dean eventually said, Sam just shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. John watched him walk towards the shower, stripping off his shirt as he went and chucking it towards the bag. He didn’t miss how Dean’s eyes wandered, but John turned away, knowing what he was pushing his children towards. _

**

‘But the hospital discharged him, saying there was no reason for him to stay.’ Mrs Williams stated, describing how her husband had woken from the coma, face ashen and lips trembling, worried about something that had him demanding to leave. Dean shifted uncomfortably on the absurdly pink couch, wondering how long they would have to listen to this story for. He wanted to get the witness list done, to go back and make sure his brother was still breathing.

His mind flashed back to the moment Sam had first died, something that still haunted him. Watching his brother fall, the feeling of cold skin against his, the knowledge that he had just lost everything he loved.

‘And then?’ Castiel prompted, breaking Dean out of his trance. He focused back on the woman in front, pushing images of Sam from his mind. There was no point thinking about it now, it would only worry him more.

‘About six hours after he woke, he started complaining about being hot. First, I thought it was a fever, but then he…’ The woman blushed, cheeks tinging dark red, and Dean gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Usually, that was Sam’s job. Sam was the sympathetic one, the person that the people wanted to talk to. Dean was Bad Cop.

‘He got hard.’ Castiel looked blank, but it didn’t take Dean long to get it. He tried to stop his eyebrows from rising, but she caught it, looking down.

‘I tried to call the doctor, but he thought I was messing with him. But, Harry just kept complaining that the heat wouldn’t go away, and I…’ Another pause, a sip from the tea cup in front, tears forming in her eyes, ‘I refused to go to him, I thought he was being silly.’ Another, much larger, sip of tea. Castiel seemed to have caught on to what she was saying, and it was making Dean’s heart sink lower with every word.

‘It became unbearable, but no matter how many times he… dealt with the issue, it didn’t help.’ How was he supposed to keep a straight face? Most of him wanted to be laughing, but the niggling worry in the back of his head told him this was going to happen to Sam. And then Dean had to do something.

‘They said it was the fever that killed him, in the end.’ She stated quietly, looking lost as she glanced down to the dark liquid in front. As Dean leant back, he couldn’t help but relating to that look.

**

_Sam looked hurt, tears in his eyes, despite how he tried to hide them. Dean was trying to avoid the fight between them, tried to not get involved, but it was getting harder. John had said something… something that even Dean had been shocked by. _

_He’d called Sam a freak. His kid-brother had never looked so hurt, eyes wide, and now they were screaming. Dean hated the screaming, could never bring himself to fight with Sam, nor his Dad. As much as he hated John, he had been taught to obey, and he found it hard to break that. Up until the point that John raised his fist, and Dean didn’t even have to think. _

_John had never hit Dean before. The older brother knew Sam had been hit, had tried to usually keep his brother out of the way, and Sam always did a good job of pretending that John hadn't done anything. But as Dean felt the punch land, he was surprised by several things. One, how much it hurt. The second was the look of guilt that flashed across John’s face, but the third, the most shocking, was Sam. _

_Arms grabbed him, turned him so sharply that Dean almost lost his balance. The guilt on Sam’s face was much worse than on John’s, shadowing ever crease on the teen’s face, and Dean tried to crack a smile. Unfortunately, his lip appeared to be bleeding, which just caused blood to spout from the cut, dribbling down his chin. _

_Dean excused himself, slammed the door on the bathroom, pretended that he didn’t hear Sam apologise to John. That Sam would do that, just because Dean got hurt, made something in Dean’s chest feel lighter. The door to the bathroom opened, the elder not fighting as Sam stepped in with some cloth and alcohol. _

_‘Sorry, De.’ Dean didn’t speak, let Sam tend to the wound as Dean had done when Sam was little, gently cleaning away the blood. _

_‘S’okay, Sammy.’ _


	4. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's feeling soppy, Sam's reliving some unpleasant memories

‘Was it good news?’ The first thing Mary said to them when they returned to the Bunker, which Dean huffed at, pushing past to get to Sam. Castiel’s footsteps momentarily faltered, like he had stopped by Mary, before they continued following Dean. The Hunter stopped in the doorway to his brother’s room, watching the Witch who was in the far chair, book in her lap. Rowena looked up, no malice or playfulness in her eyes, just a steady contentment. Slight worry, if Dean had to push further past the barriers she kept up.

‘Any change?’ Dean asked, not bothering with being pleasant as he crossed to the other side of the bed, fingers itching to reach for Sam, but not wanting to show weakness in front of the Witch. Sighing, Rowena stood, her ridiculous heels clicking on the floor.

‘He got up and danced around the room like a wee fairy.’ It was mocking, but not unkind, and Dean was thankful that somebody wasn’t stepping around him like they feared he would snap. Usually, that kind of remark would earn her a glare, but Dean settled for a small smile, sitting down looking at his brother.

‘Thanks.’ Was all he said, and Rowena smiled back.

‘I’m doing it for Samuel, not you.’ And with that, she was gone. It was only once she had left that Dean realised that she was wearing the same dress from yesterday, the one they had left her wearing when they went on the Hunt. A glass sat on top of the dressing table, Dean realising that the Witch must have stayed with him almost constantly, something that made him respect her that little bit more. Not that he’d ever say it aloud.

‘Dean, Sam will be alright.’ Castiel took the seat Rowena had left, having taken off his trenchcoat somewhere along the way. His sleeves were rolled up, top two buttons undone, looking rather concerned. Now that it was just the three of them, Dean could reach forwards to Sam’s neck, fingers dancing over the pulse. Rewarded with the steady rhythm, he relaxed slightly, glancing up to his friend.

‘You heard the witnesses. Four to six hours of being alright, before a fever hits, and it only gets worse from there.’ Sam would try and fight it, of course he would, because he was stubborn. They had been raised to ignore illnesses, to forget colds and flus and push through them. Many a time, they had both been ill while travelling, but had to suck it up because their Dad told them to.

‘But we can break it.’ Dean looked up, knowing exactly why Castiel was worried. He must look a mess, having not slept properly in the three days since Sam got hit with the curse, having barely stopped for food. His eyes were bloodshot, the stress clearly showing, and he needed to shave. But he couldn’t, not knowing that he would have to break the curse that Sam had, not when he knew that Sam would never forgive him. After all, why would Sam ever feel the same way that he did?

**

_‘It’s always been Dean.’ Sam murmured, looking down at the mostly-empty glass of scotch in front of him. He was already nursing a headache, a bruised lip from the fight he had got in earlier. Stanford was supposed to be his way out, yet why did he hate it so much? Why did he feel sick every time he looked in the mirror, saw the person he had become? Why, when everyone else looked like they were enjoying their classes, did he sit in them and wish he was back in the Impala, riding shotgun beside his brother? _

_‘Tell me about him.’ Another glass of strong liquor placed in front of him, Sam swigging it down and wondering what exactly he was doing here, speaking about his issues so freely in front of someone that he didn’t know if he could trust. Brady seemed alright, but Sam couldn’t be too sure, he had to keep some distance between the two of them. _

_‘He’s a jerk. A jerk, and a womanizer, and someone who needs to stand up to Dad.’ Sam spit the words out, staring down into the amber liquid in hope that he could forget everything about those emerald eyes, forget all about Dean entirely. _

_‘But…’ Brady prompted, waving down the bartender for another drink, Sam not complaining as his glass was yet again replaced. He was becoming drunk dangerously fast, but he couldn’t care less. _

_‘But he’s Dean, and I still love him.’ As a brother, Sam told himself firmly, reiterating the thing he had been telling himself since his early teenage years. Dean was his brother, his big brother, and Sam loved him. _

_‘As a brother?’ Brady asked, and Sam felt the guilt creeping into his gut, the sinking feeling of shame settling down in the pit of his stomach, the niggling fear in the back of his head that told him he needed to go back to Dean. Because everything in Sam’s life had always been about Dean, this should be no different._

_‘Of course.’ It came out as snappy, aggressive, and a complete lie. Brady just hummed, raising the glass to toast it with Sam’s. If this was what life was going to be like, why was he so unhappy? He had friends, he had a new life, he even had a date with the most stunning woman he’d ever met. Why was it so hard to get Dean out of his head?_

**

‘Jesus, Sammy.’

‘Sam isn’t Jesus.’ Castiel remarked, even though he knew that Dean wasn’t serious. He was just trying to lighten the mood, not watching as Dean changed Sam out of the shirt he had been wearing on the Hunt, gently soaping up a cloth to wash him. Castiel admittedly had seen Sam shirtless numerous times over the past couple of years, but even he could see the issue.

Weight loss seemed to be an issue, his once-toned stomach now bordering on thin, his lower ribs prominent. Castiel felt guilty, knowing he had pushed Sam to find Dean when he was a Demon, pushed him to find a cure for the Mark of Cain. But had he ever really thought about the effects on Sam, who seemed to be slipping out from under their fingers? The Angel looked down to the malnourished human, watched Dean lovingly, slowly, painstakingly removing the dirt and blood that stained Sam’s torso. After all this time, the Angel should have known he had to look after Sam Winchester.

‘I let this happen.’ Dean murmured, eyes trailing down his brother’s too-thin form, Castiel feeling anger bubbling up in his stomach.

‘No you didn’t.’ If anyone was to blame, it was Castiel, not Dean. But there was no point trying to convince a Winchester they weren’t to blame, it was a pointless thing. Both carried guilt as easily as they wielded a shotgun, effortlessly hiding it from the other. The Angel paused, wondering if this was a trait he had adopted from the family that had taken him in, wondering if the human emotion of guilt was something he had learnt from Dean and Sam.

Possibly. Dean rose his head, staring across at Castiel, and the Angel tried to look firm. Really, all he was doing was hoping that he looked reassuring.

**

_‘I don’t blame you.’ Sam looked over to his girlfriend, who was sitting beside him, the two of them watching a movie. It was the first time he had tried talking about his family, the complicated relationships between the trio of Winchesters. Jess had listened quietly, playing with the hem of the blanket that was wrapped over her, allowing him to say his piece. _

_‘I’d love him too.’ Dean. They were talking about Dean. Sam felt his cheeks turn red, his lips open to defend himself, but she placed a finger to them. Warm skin, bright eyes staring right at him. He didn’t speak, allowing her hand to move to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his jawline lovingly. He tilted into the touch, shut his eyes so as not to see the disgust. _

_‘And there isn’t anything wrong with you loving him. I can share.’ He opened his eyes so quickly that the low-light hurt, that his brain backfired rather than focusing on what she had just said. Jess smirked, crawled up into his lap, legs straddling his hips. _

_‘You love him,’ She murmured, lips brushing his, hands tangling into his hair that Dean said was girl-hair, ‘And you miss him.’ _

_Sam went to protest, to say that he didn’t miss Dean, that the hole in his chest had nothing to do with his departed brother, but Jess was quicker. _

_‘And that’s okay, because I know you’re a good man, Sam. So, whenever I get to meet him, whenever you realise that it’s okay to want a life of your ow, I hope you’ll introduce us.’ Sam didn’t have a chance to try and explain, because Jess was saying those three words that Sam wished he had heard from Dean, was saying them and kissing him softly, in every way he ever desired. And in that moment, Sam realised that he could definitely make room for Jessica Moore in his heart, right beside the bit reserved for Dean. _

**

‘You can’t leave me.’ Dean quietly whispered to his brother, tucking them both under the blanket. The door was shut, the Bunker quiet, and Dean took the chance to lie next to Sam, to hold onto his baby brother like he did when they were little. There were so many things he wished he could take back, the times he pushed Sam away, the times he denied Sam the physical affection he so obviously wanted, he needed.

Dean needed it too. He didn’t realise it, not until Sam had gone to Stanford, not until he had lost Sam time after time. Without Sam, Dean was incomplete. There was no other way to put it, no other way for Dean to understand his emotions. He could never be happy without his brother, but would never stop feeling guilty for everything he had put his brother through.

‘I need you, Sammy.’ The words were unspoken, the silent _I love you _that he had not spoken for so long.


	5. Down in the Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some memories of the Cage, Dean being soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, sorry!

_‘You see, the issue is that you’re too… good.’ Lucifer was sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at his nails using a knife. The Cage around them had shifted to appear as the Panic Room at Bobby’s, which was something Sam didn’t want to think about too much. The Devil had currently managed to hide Michael away, so that they could have some “alone time”. That was never a good thing, not that Sam was in a position to argue with it. _

_‘Unless it’s about Dean.’ The name was enough for Sam to cry, tears welling in his eyes as he fought the constraints around his wrists. His chest was bare, the name that had just been mentioned carved into his skin. Lucifer looked up, a pleased expression at the tears that were showing, and Sam fought back a whimper when the Devil rose. _

_‘You’re all bad then, Sammy.’ A nail dragged down from his collarbone to the name on his chest, the carvings that went deep enough to reveal ribs. Topside, he’d be dead. But he didn’t have that luxury now, he was stuck crying out for someone that would never come and rescue him. Dean probably didn’t even miss him that much, not with everything he had done to him in the past couple of years. Dean went to Hell for him, and look how Sam repaid him. _

_‘It’s cute that you think he’ll come for you.’ No, Sam thought, biting his lip. It wasn’t cute, it was killing him quicker than the Cage ever could. The very thought of those green eyes made his heart break, all the memories he had buried surfacing up. _

_‘Does this make it better, Sammy?’ When Sam opened his eyes, he was staring into the green eyes, the same ones that he associated with everything good in his life. The thing was, Lucifer knew exactly how to hurt Sam the most, by breaking away the one thing that kept him sane. He couldn’t help but sob when rough, calloused hands ran up his thighs, lovingly stroking over his skin. _

_‘Aw, don’t cry Sammy, big brother will make it better.’_

**

Dean was staring at the bowl of his brother’s rabbit-cereal that he had stolen, trying to understand what possessed him to pour it. The issue was, it was too quiet without his little brother running around the Bunker. There were no arguments, none of Sam’s bitchfaces or rabbit food or stupid health routines. Nothing, just an empty silence and an ache in his chest that didn’t shift. His Mom was avoiding him, probably because Rowena had told her what he would have to do to break the curse, and he was pretty sure his Mom was determined to find another way.

Rowena, on the other hand, was actually being useful. Dean had known, on some basic level, how much she cared for Sam. To begin with, that awfully cold jealousy had crept over, niggling in the back of his mind about how Sam had found someone else to be with. But only now did he see that she wasn’t doing it for that reason, that she was just trying to save him.

‘Good morning.’ Speak of the Devil, or in this case, witch. Rowena walked past him to reach for the coffee pot, stealing one of Sam’s mugs and pouring a generous amount.

‘Anything?’ Dean asked, ignoring the greeting. As much as the Witch was growing on him, he couldn’t allow that to slip through. She turned, sitting down opposite him, a smile on her face.

‘In fact, yes. Nothing on how to break the curse, but something on how to stop the memories from harming him, if they seem to be an issue when he wakes.’ Like the wall that Death had put in place, only without Castiel going to break it. Dean really wanted to hope it wasn’t necessary, he didn’t want to think of his little brother trapped inside his own head, slowly going insane.

‘That’s better than-’

‘DEAN!’ That was Castiel calling, but both him and Rowena ran to where the sound had come from, in Sam’s room. Dean didn’t think before running in, stopping when he saw Castiel leaning over the bed, holding down Sam’s shoulders as his limbs flailed, body shaking.

‘Shit.’ Rowena was moving past him while shock froze his limbs, his lips not moving as she murmured something, Sam’s body falling limp under the light touch she pressed to his forehead.

‘I thought he was supposed to be in a coma.’ Mary spoke up from behind them, worry evident on her face, while Dean slowly moved towards his now-still brother. Castiel spoke up, trying to explain that he had seen Sam’s soul begin to attack itself, almost like he was trying to give up. The Hunter didn’t want to listen, sinking down besides his giant brother, who looked so tiny wrapped up on the bed. Yet again, his fingers found their way to the pulse point, before moving up to his cheek, head moving closer so he could whisper,

‘You’re okay, Sammy. I’ve got you.’

**

_Sam rose his head, looking at the Devil as he spun around on the swivel chair, apparently occupied for the time being. Michael was in the room, watching Sam curiously, like he was almost proud. One thing was for sure, Michael hadn't expected Sam to offer himself to the Archangel in return for Adam being left alone. Perhaps it earnt him some respect, Michael certainly hadn't been hurting him as much lately. _

_‘I just think that we should exploit this fact. All of Heaven and Hell know that the Winchesters are soulmates.’ Lucifer spoke up, in Enochian, to his brother. Michael looked across to Lucifer, and for once, Sam could see why they used to be close. The look exchanged seemed private, a look of love, amusement yet still the anger that the Archangel had shown in the past. _

_‘And?’ Michael asked, eyes flicking to Adam, who was curled up in the corner. Sam followed the gaze, wondering why he was protecting a brother he had never known. Was this what it was like to have a younger brother, he wondered, feeling sick in his stomach at the thought of Dean. _

_‘It’s the way to get topside, big bro.’ Sam choked suddenly, felt the air leave his lungs, and only then noted that it was Lucifer’s Grace that was attacking him. It certainly helped, knocking away the memories of Dean, instead replacing it with the freezing cold. _

_‘You’re okay, Sammy. I’ve got you.’ Sam blinked, looking around, but neither Archangel had spoken. In fact, it was like they hadn't heard it at all. _


	6. The Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories hurting Sam, Mary being a lil bit of a bitch.

Dean was nervous. He was trying not to show it, but knowing that Sam was waking up at some point in the next 36 hours scared him. He shifted uncomfortably, clasped hands sweaty as he observed his sleeping brother, hoping that he would wake. No, he hoped he would wake up and be alright. There had be no more seizures, nothing that would suggest that Sam was in pain, and Dean hoped that it was a good sign. Knowing the Winchester luck, however, it was unlikely.

‘You can’t be considering this.’ He didn’t need to look to know that Mary, his Mom, was standing in the doorway. He had heard the argument last night between Rowena and Mary, increasing tensions over the way they were going to break this curse. Castiel moved past her, taking the spare seat in the room.

‘How’s he doing?’ Dean asked, Castiel doing the same as he had done countless times. He reached forwards, slowly so that Dean could see what he was doing, fingers brushing over Sam’s temple. The curse kept Sam nourished, his body in stasis so he didn’t need to eat or drink, but it didn’t stop Dean from worrying. The first time he had done it, Dean had almost freaked out, memories of too many Angels having their way with his baby brother. And Demons.

‘Stable, although his soul appears to be in some distress.’ That hadn't been said before, the Hunter glancing up to the Angel in worry.

‘Why?’ The memories. Dean didn’t really need to ask, he could imagine, he knew that his brother had suffered. Castiel shot an apologetic look, sitting back in the chair, while Dean looked back up to his Mom. She was watching the two of them, the concern on her face mixed with the remnants of anger from the argument with Rowena.

‘Could it not be someone else?’ The instantaneous jealousy that swirled, the sick bile at the thought of someone else hurting his baby brother, of seeing him in such a vulnerable state, had Dean tensing. Castiel caught the motion, warning him silently that he needed to be careful. Mary didn’t know them like Castiel did. But even the Angel didn’t know how Dean felt, not really. The only constant in Dean’s life, besides the Impala, was Sam. Sam had been his from the moment he ran from that building, and every moment since had just solidified that.

‘No.’ He wasn’t going to argue, he didn’t want to drag out the argument, or the pain that would inevitably be felt when Mary rejected him. Truthfully, he could live with that. It was Sam’s rejection that would kill him, tearing away his heart from his chest. That was the part he feared.

‘But, Dean, surely you understand…’ She trailed off, the silence saying everything that her mouth couldn’t. It wasn’t like Dean wanted it to happen this way. Sometimes, in the happiest moments of his dreams, he envisioned a life where Sam returned the sentiments that Dean felt. That Dean could tell his brother the sickening secret that had corrupted him from the moment he first felt that love. That Sam would tell him he felt the same, would give Dean that puppy-dog face and the smile that showed off those cute dimples.

‘I understand it perfectly.’ Dean replied, staring back at his clasped hands. After all, he had nothing better to do until his brother woke.

**

_‘Such an interesting place.’ Gadreel remarked, staring at the paradise that Sam had created inside his mind. The Hunter cowered slightly, feeling a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he was angry at Dean. How his brother could let this happen, knowing that Sam hated the breach in trust. But he also understood, not that he’d ever tell his older brother that. Losing Dean had been the worst thing Sam had ever felt, the world meant nothing as soon as Dean wasn’t in it. _

_So, he could understand why Dean had betrayed him. Had used an Angel, to cure him. It made sense, in a way, that Dean had done such a thing. But now Sam was staring at the Angel, knowing fully well that he could exploit every inch of Sam’s mind, could see everything Sam had ever thought. And in this memory, the one that Sam always came to when he was in danger, he was at his most vulnerable. Lucifer had seen it, Ruby had thought she could predict it, Michael had laughed at it. Sam stood in the memory, the perfect memory that he had constructed, shifting it slightly to change the ending. _

_Dean’s image, the one that Sam liked to remember, the one before Stanford, before Sam messed everything up. Sam was in the memory, although he was a lot younger than he was now, staring up at his brother with the same adoration he still felt, but he kept hidden. Gadreel studied the memory, walking towards Sam so slowly that the Hunter knew he couldn’t avoid this. _

_‘Your greatest weakness.’ Gadreel remarked, pausing beside the image of Dean. Leather jacket, hair spiky, face still smooth. Frozen mid laugh, the happiness of the moment they had been in. Sam remembered it fondly, the first time his brother had introduced him to weed, something that Sam had been awful at smoking. Dean had laughed for hours, slowly teaching him how to breathe it in, Sam adamantly pretending he wasn’t watching Dean’s lips as he did. _

_‘Does your big brother know?’ Gadreel wasn’t one to mock, he sounded genuinely curious, but Sam couldn’t fight the shattering heart, the palpitations of yet another Angel finding out his weakness. How had he let this happen? Sam couldn’t help but feel the rejection of his brother all over again, even though he had managed to hide his feelings so well. Lucifer had managed to do it so many times, and before Sam could stop it, the memory shifted. Gadreel watched, curious, but Sam could only scream. _

**

‘I’m so sorry, baby brother.’ Dean mumbled, eyes flicking between the steady rise and fall of Sam’s chest, or the pale face that wasn’t even twitching. He knew it was too much to hope for that the repressed memories would be good, knew his brother was probably suffering.

‘Should have been me.’ That was true. Dean should have taken lead on that Hunt, should have sorted out the issues as soon as they arose between them. If he had just spoken to his brother, it would have never have happened.

‘You cannot blame yourself, Dean.’ Castiel was back, this time with food. Dean gratefully accepted the plate of reheated lasagne, the meal he had cooked for Rowena and himself after Mary stormed out of the Bunker last night. He hadn't even complained when she had taken the Impala, as long as she wasn’t judging him for the relationship, or sadly lack of, that he had with his brother.

**

_Sam rolled over, blinking back sleep as he stared at his brother. Dean was awake, green eyes studying him, before he smirked lazily. _

_‘Mornin’, Princess.’ Sam couldn’t even find it in him to be mad, instead smiling back at his brother. Dean leaned in, slowly brushing his lips over Sam’s, and he couldn’t help but gasp, the soft heat making his head spin. _

_‘Dean?’ His brother looked so… calm. Cool, collected. But also, strangely open. None of the cocky attitude, and Sam became concerned. _

_‘Just let it happen, Sammy.’ Dean moved forwards again, and it felt so good, but Sam knew something wasn’t right. _

_‘De?’ The nickname, the softness, Sam knew he was vulnerable. Those eyes, the bright green that Sam loved, began to go cold. The smirk turned evil, not smug, and Sam could recognise it anywhere. He rolled from the bed, watching as Not-Dean stretched out, looking content, almost like a cat. _

_‘Hey there Sammy.’ _

_‘Lucifer.’_

_**_

_Gadreel sighed, looking back to Sam, who was fighting the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. _

_‘Oh Sam, you needed me. Without me, you would have been lost.’ Sam didn’t reply, just looked back to the memory of the Cage, to the Dean that he had been allowed. But it wasn’t the same, it was never enough. _


	7. Sweet and soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean talks with Cas, more of Mary being a lil shit, and Sam has some sweet memories to make up for the shitty ones

The mirror had fogged up, leaving Dean unable to see his reflection. That was probably a good thing, he had no doubt that he looked bad. Reaching for the shaving cream, he used his other hand to swipe across the mirror. Surprisingly, the shower had done wonders for his appearance. Although the bags under his eyes were still prominent, they weren’t as bad as they had been. His eyes were tired, but it was nothing that Sammy waking up wouldn’t fix.

Shaving cream applied, he reached for the razor. He couldn’t help but think back to his brother, still asleep in his bed. Would he even wake up? What if Rowena’s spell didn’t work? What if Sam wouldn’t let them do it?

He forced himself to take a breath, running the razor gently over his skin. He didn’t flinch when Castiel came in, although it did mean that Rowena was currently looking after Sam. That was okay, as long as Mary wasn’t anywhere near, because the two seemed barely able to be in the same room as each other anymore. The Angel didn’t say anything, just watched as Dean worked away the stubble that had formed.

‘I taught Sammy to shave.’ He wasn’t entirely sure why he was saying this, but Castiel didn’t speak, instead gave him a look like he was urging Dean to continue. The Hunter thought about the memory, almost laughing as he remembered Sam’s face when Dean insisted he would show him.

‘Sam was all gangly, long limbs that he hadn't grown into. Like a baby giraffe. Kid could barely keep still, so when he first tried, he managed to cut his cheek.’ Dean could still picture the puppy-eyes that Sam had given him, covered in shaving cream, the small nick on his cheek bleeding slightly. He still remembered reaching forwards, brushing away the blood with his thumb, then reaching for the razor.

‘Only time I’ve ever seen Sam still, running the razor under chin.’ Dean copied the action that he had done for Sam, running the blade up his throat, hitting his chin and cleaning. He could almost picture the hazel eyes, the bright smile, the slightly too-wide pupils as Dean finished, stepping back and staring at his baby brother. It was the only time that Dean could remember thinking that Sam might feel the same way that he did, the look that his little brother gave him was downright sinful.

‘You’re doing the right thing.’ Castiel had said it before, but Dean was thankful for the reassurance. He gave the Angel one last smile, before cleaning the shaving foam from his jaw. It was time for his baby brother to wake up.

**

_‘Time for one last memory, let’s make it a good one.’ Sam wasn’t even entirely sure where he was anymore, his head ached, and he could still hear Lucifer cackling from the fourth room. He looked to the exit, stumbled towards the door, pushing it open and stepping as far away as possible from the five doors. _

**

Dean was surprised to find Mary in the room, sitting in the spare chair, while Rowena sat by Sam’s side. She smiled slightly as he walked in, although he was still on guard, trying to figure out why she was in here.

‘I understand that growing up as you did, life must have been difficult.’ That made him tense, eyes flicking to Rowena, who got the hint and stood up. She left quickly, shutting the door behind her, as Dean sat down slowly in the chair she had left.

‘I also understand that it must have blurred some of the lines between the two of you.’ He knew she didn’t really understand. How could anybody see what it had been like for them, spending all their time with each other, only having the other to rely on. Knowing that there was no life outside of Hunting, that any day could be their last. Growing up for the first ten years in the same bed, until Dean couldn’t do it anymore, because puberty had hit and he was starting to realise that girls were pretty.

But they always left. Sam hadn't, not until Stanford, and even then he had come back when Dean had asked. He still remembered the night Sam had left, how Sam had begged him to tell him to stay. How Dean couldn’t do that to his baby brother, so had walked back into the Motel without looking back, hoping that Sam wouldn’t follow. And he hadn't.

‘Blurred lines?’ Dean choked out, felt tears building as he thought to all the times they had been stuck in a situation together, trapped, yet knowing the other would come. Because they couldn’t leave each other, and that had kept Dean sane. Even if he wanted more, he had his brother. That was enough, that was what he deserved, and he knew he couldn’t fight that.

‘I know that you have to do this, but please, let it be Sam’s choice.’ His body went cold, mind freezing as the words processed in his mind. That his Mom thought he could do that to Sammy… no. Dean couldn’t get angry, even though the accusation made his entire body scream out. To hurt Sammy, the one thing he had sworn not to do…

‘At least it only has to happen once.’ He thought he might be sick. She was looking down at Sam, the same curious expression that she had worn when she first met him. But Dean was staring at her, for the first time feeling like maybe it wasn’t a good thing that she was back. Sure, he loved her, she was his Mom. But she was going to drive a wedge between him and Sam, and he couldn’t let that happen. Not ever.

‘Just go, Mom. I need some time to think.’ Maybe it was because he hadn't agreed with her, but he saw the suspicion cross her face, watched as she tried to figure out how deeply his feelings towards Sam went. It wasn’t enough that they were soulmates, not to her. It didn’t matter that John had been her soulmate, it wasn’t allowed. Dean knew why, of course he did, he’d spent his whole life knowing that it was sick.

‘Tell us when he wakes.’ And with that, she left the room.

**

_‘Get this, wendigos are actually previously human, but they become cannibals.’ Sam flicked through the lore he had printed out, sitting cross-legged on his brother’s back while Dean did push-ups. His brother was a lot stricter in the whole “exercise-routine” that John made them do every morning, Sam didn’t bother while he was away on a Hunt. And Dean wouldn’t tell their Dad that Sam hadn't been doing them. _

_‘Dude, concentrating.’ Dean huffed, lowering himself back towards the shitty carpet of the Motel they were currently in. Sam wiggled slightly, Dean growling under his breath, and he fell still again. It was slightly funny, that a fifteen-year-old Dean could hold his weight, but Sam enjoyed it. Dean didn’t want to spend as much time together, now that they were older, and physical affection was one of the things that had been dropped. _

_This was the time Sam could be close without having to worry that Dean would figure out that he was enjoying watching Dean’s muscles flex. Maybe it should have been wrong, but the fact that Dean could protect Sam made the youngest Winchester feel something weird in his stomach. A whole swirling affect, mixtures of happiness and love and maybe even something more. _

_‘Using fire to kill them seems pretty ineffective, there has to be a way of killing them with some sort of bullet. Maybe a flare?’ Sam was rewarded with another one of those huffs, but this time he knew his brother had listened, and was maybe even considering what Sam was saying. Eventually, Dean flopped to the floor, Sam rolling off of him and standing up, the book still in hand. Researching cannibalism was always fun, almost as exciting as looking at serial killers. _

_‘Nerd.’ Dean ruffled his hair, Sam fighting back a smile as his brother walked towards the bathroom, probably to shower. Sam watched as his older brother pulled the shirt over his head, chucking it towards his duffel. Envy, maybe that was what it was, staring at Dean’s muscular back and wishing that he wasn’t all gangly limbs. His brother had always been lucky with his looks, but Sam just looked like a weed. _

_The door shutting broke his concentration, the sound of the shower distracting him so that he could look into the mirror and stare at himself for a while. Maybe he would do the morning exercises, that might help him not look so stick-thin and gangly. _

_**_

_‘What’s wrong?’ A chick-flic moment, this was what was about to happen. Sam had tried to hide the tears from his brother, knowing that Dean would worry unnecessarily, but he couldn’t. School had been hard, and the jocks making fun of him for how his older brother seemed to get all of the good-looks shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. _

_‘Nothing.’ Sam snapped, moving away from the concerned green eyes and towards the shower. He was stopped, of course, when Dean reached for him, a hand grabbing his shoulder. Sam didn’t even think, using his advantage to grip the wrist and flip Dean over, twisting his arm as he shoved his older brother to the floor. Dean got a mouthful of carpet, Sam got the guilt instantly hitting him like a freight train. He released the grip before thinking, surprised when Dean lunged back, even though he should have been expecting it. _

_They went scrambling to the floor, Sam desperately trying to buck the weight of his older brother off, but Dean was stronger. Arms pinned him, a leg resting between his to stop him from kicking, Dean’s knee resting on Sam’s lower back and keeping him stomach-down on the floor. Unfortunately, Sam had a bigger issue. It shouldn’t have turned him on so much, Dean pinning him down, but boy was it hot. His panting breath was more to do with the blood rushing south, not the exertion from fighting, and he was now pressed painfully onto the tent in his jeans, which was luckily hidden from Dean. _

_‘Finished being a bitch?’ Dean huffed in his ear, Sam stopping squirming and laying pliant underneath him, feeling the hot breath down the back of his neck. He needed to get out of this situation, and fast. _

_‘Yeah, I’m finished.’ Desperately trying to keep his tone calm, so as not to provoke another fight, he waited for his brother to make a decision. To let it go, or to pursue it. Luckily, Dean Winchester didn’t like chick-flic moments, and so he was released without any other protest. Sam almost sprinted to the shower, shutting the bathroom door so loud he heard it rattle slightly. _

_‘Maybe come out with a new attitude!’ Dean called, and Sam couldn’t help but smile slightly. He should have been mad, but instead he found himself thinking back to how shocked Dean had been when Sam had flipped them, and then how good it had been to be underneath. Yeah, maybe he should spar with his brother more often. _


	8. Wakey Wakey!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiya Sam!

His head hurt. Sam could barely stand it, blindly reaching with his hand to touch his temple, gasping as the movement caused his lungs to scream in protest. A faint buzzing sound rang in his ears, eyes opening only to be blinded by light. It took him a moment, filled with a lot of blinking, to even identify where he was. And then the buzzing made sense, his mind focusing on the voice that was speaking, the green eyes that were staring right into his, rough lips moving so fast that he could tell Dean was worried.

‘…Sammy c’mon, give me something to work with.’ Even though he hadn't caught the last part of the sentence, he could get the idea. He lowered his hand, finding that Dean’s were wrapped around his arms, reaching out for the hem of the flannel shirt that Dean was wearing.

‘Dean?’ The relief spread like a wave, Dean sagging against him, before Sam was engulfed in a hug. Considering everything that had gone on previously, he was surprised his brother even wanted to hug him, but he wasn’t going to deny Dean anything. He latched on, the pain from his head melting away as Dean pulled back, hands moving to Sam’s cheeks, tilting him so that Dean could study his face. Whatever he was looking for, Dean obviously hadn't found it, because a smile broke out.

‘You’re okay.’ It wasn’t a question, but Sam nodded anyway, confusion replacing the happiness that the hug had provided.

‘Dean, what’s going on?’ The smile fell right off of his brother’s face, guilt and other emotions Sam couldn’t place swimming in his eyes. He wanted to reach out, to assure his brother that everything was fine, but he didn’t dare. Instead, his concentration went to his clothes, which he was surprised by. Mostly, because they weren’t the ones he remembered putting on. Just as he was about to ask, Dean offered the answer.

‘It was a curse, Sammy. You got hit by the same thing that the Witch did to the others.’ His mind switched back on so quickly that Sam almost jumped, dots connecting as he remembered the hunt they had been on. People falling into comas, before waking up and getting a fever. He remembered finding the Witch, going with Castiel and Mom to kill it. Was she dead?

‘Yeah, I killed her.’ Oh, he must have said the last bit aloud. Sam paused, before realising his brother had said he had been hit by the curse. Which meant that the fever…

‘Easy, I can see that Moose brain of yours already working over-time. Everything’s alright, although you could do with a shower.’ The last bit came out mockingly, like the friendly banter they had usually had before Sam had messed up. A shower did sound nice, Sam thought, slowly swinging his legs from the bed. Every muscle felt like lead, Dean easing him up gently, not laughing when Sam stumbled almost immediately. The arm wrapped around him, and Sam didn’t even have the energy to fight it, relaxing back into his brother’s hold like it was natural.

It was natural. It was also probably helped by the memories, Sam thought, trying to shove them down. The Cage, it wasn’t real. He was topside, with his brother, who was currently helping him through the Bunker. The eyes weren’t cold, this was the real Dean. Still, he had to check, reaching out to brush the edge of Dean’s shirt down, enough to reveal the edge of the tattoo. Lucifer never could replicate it, and so as Sam’s gaze focused on it, he felt the nerves in his stomach dissipate.

‘Sammy? You good?’ Embarrassment replaced the nerves, realising he had been staring at the tattoo for a while now, Dean looking concerned.

‘Just checking this is real.’ He blurted out, then realised what he had just said, eyes widening in fear as he tried to backtrack the statement. Dean was quicker, grabbing his arms before he could pull away, effectively trapping him.

‘I get it, it’s okay.’ Sam couldn’t keep staring into those eyes, not when his mind was such a mess, but Dean let it go. The rest of the walk was done in silence, although Dean stayed in contact with him for the walk. When they reached the showers, Dean guided him to sit down, before going to start the water.

‘Going in clothed?’ Sam blinked, confused, before realising his brother intended to stay while he showered. It wasn’t like it was the first time they had been this close, what with all the injuries they had sustained, but this was different. Sam was fully awake, and could definitely not strip down while his brother was watching.

‘Can… can you turn around?’ The wobbling in his voice made Dean’s brows crinkle in concern, but he did as told. Slowly, Sam undid the buttons of the flannel, shrugging out of the shirt and staring at his chest in the reflection. He hadn't really noticed how his muscle definition had slipped, how he had started to lose weight, not until now. The thought made him wrap his arms around his middle, like he was trying to shield it from Dean’s gaze, even if his brother was facing away.

‘Hurry up, Sasquatch.’ It was still joking, nothing snarky about it, so Sam stepped out of the jeans and boxers and stepped under the spray. True to his word, Dean didn’t turn, but Sam saw the way his shoulders relaxed when Sam made it to the shower. The water was hot, enough to burn away the lingering touches from memories, enough to scrub his skin red. He finished quickly, washing his soap with Dean’s wash rather than his own, hoping his brother wouldn’t mind.

Ever thoughtful, Dean had already got spare clothes in the room. Sam dried, stepping into the boxers and sweatpants, reaching for the shirt. His brother began to turn, so Sam sped up the movement and shoved the shirt down, which got him a raised eyebrow from his brother.

‘Sorry.’ It was instinct to apologise, he couldn’t help it, but he didn’t miss how Dean’s face turned guilty at it. An awkward silence followed, until Dean cleared his throat.

‘Let’s get you fed.’

**

‘I’m glad to see you are feeling better, Sam.’ Castiel was smiling, so Sam returned it. Rowena was here, although he had just seen her in passing, she hadn't stopped. He guessed it was to do with the curse, but he wasn’t going to ask yet, he didn’t want to spoil his brother’s mood. Dean seemed happy, even if Mom wasn’t around, another thing Sam wanted to question.

‘So, Rowena came because of the curse.’ Dean began, taking a bite out of the burger. Sam almost choked on his, drinking water quickly to wash it away, nodding at his brother’s words.

‘She can’t break it.’ So, he had woken up naturally. Which meant the Fever would still hit him. But Dean didn’t look scared, not the way he had been when Sam had been dying before. Maybe he just wasn’t as bothered anymore.

‘But she was prepared to put a wall in your mind, in case you needed it.’ The memories. Slowly, Castiel offered him a piece of paper, with his brother’s familiar scrawl over it. It appeared to be the notes from Interviews, the words from the curse. A bonding curse, Sam had read a lot about them in the Men of Letters’ storage, but this one seemed more complex. The ingredients were fascinating, such a complex variety and the words were in Latin.

‘Stop nerding out.’ Dean said with a slight smile, but it seemed sad. Sam followed the writing, before he halted. “Bonding of soulmates”. The words were right there, but even so, Sam still had to keep reading. The fever that took 4-6 hours after waking up, before the person became… Ice travelled down his spine, his stomach threatened to spill everything he had just eaten. The breaking of the curse involved bonding with a soulmate. And he knew who’s his was.

Dean.


	9. Time's running out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's feeling guilty, Dean's feeling guilty

Dean could see the very moment that it clicked, the way that Sam’s body went rigid. The guilt was already eating away at Dean, even though he was happy to have his brother back. And he would do anything to keep him that way. Castiel sat quietly with them, obviously knowing how awkward this was going to be, but hopefully someone could convince Sam that he needed to be alive. Because Dean wasn’t sure that Sam wanted to be anymore, at least, he was very quick to sacrifice.

‘Sam?’ Hazel eyes looked up, and Dean almost lost his voice. The words were snatched by the look, so open and confused, yet he didn’t see any disgust. Not yet.

‘We’ve got time to discuss this, alright? Nothing’s happening without us talking.’ Dean said it in a firm voice, despite the fact that he was terrified. His brother nodded slowly, vaguely, like he was far away in whatever dreamland had held him in the coma.

‘Sam, many of the victims claimed that the memories they remembered should have been impossible to see, like you were watching someone else’s perception of the event.’ Castiel’s voice broke whatever trance Sam had been in, the youngest looking up at the Angel, before ever so slowly nodding again.

**

Sam didn’t know what was going on. In fact, he was pretty sure he must be asleep. Dean was sitting there, acting like it was completely fine that he would be forced to sleep with his brother, that it was completely fine that Dean would be assaulted. Because that was what it would be, Dean didn’t want it. But Sam did, God, some sick part of him did. It burnt up inside, eating away at him, and he didn’t know if he was going to scream, or just curl up.

When Castiel spoke, Sam registered the words. Very slowly, he realised that it must have been true, because he had seen it from Dean’s perspective. Had watched himself through Dean’s eyes. And he was confused, because he could feel the love that Dean had felt, the adoration. Had felt the tears, and the pain, and the sickness that Sam was currently feeling. Had seen John’s view, his father knowing what he was doing was pushing them together.

No, Sam was trying to justify the sickness that he had, the one that was causing all this to happen. Even if he was awake, he couldn’t let his brother do something like that, Dean wouldn’t be able to look at him ever again. And Sam, he was weak. Without his brother, he could do nothing. He’d have to give up, he wouldn’t be able to continue.

‘I… I think I want to sleep.’ Dean looked worried, as did Castiel, but Sam wasn’t going to give them an option. He shoved the paper away, desperately trying to forget the words on the page, ignoring his half-eaten burger as he moved towards his room. Footsteps followed, a light jog as Dean fought to catch up.

‘Hey, Sam.’ He stopped, because dammit, he couldn’t stop himself from listening to Dean.

‘Come to my room, I want to keep an eye on you. And we can talk, when you wake up.’ Dean’s look was pleading, whereas Sam’s was terror. He followed dutifully, keeping his eyes trained on Dean’s shoes, even when they moved into the room. Dean shut the door, walking across to the bed and kicking off his shoes, slumping down on one side of the bed. It wasn’t like Sam hadn't been here before, occasionally he would come to share notes, or watch a movie with Dean.

‘I won’t bite.’ Dean joked, then seemed to realise it was very inappropriate with the situation, but Sam was thankful for it. He was careful as he got under the sheets, keeping his body as far from his brother as possible, not wanting Dean to know how much this was affecting him. He rolled away, heard his brother adjust his position and grab his laptop. 

‘I saw you.’ Sam realised he had spoken, realised Dean had gone still, and he kept his focus on the floor. If he wasn’t looking at Dean, then he didn’t have to see what his brother was thinking.

‘All of them were about you.’ The end word was wobbled, tears already filling his eyes, and he jumped as a hand rested on his shoulder.

‘S’okay, Sammy. Sleep.’ His brother even bent down to press a kiss to his head, which Sam couldn’t help but lean back into. A hand looped into his hair, fingers finding his scalp, while Sam heard the other reach for the laptop.

When he woke up, he’d have to tell Dean that he was going to choose the other option. Because he was the sick one, and he couldn’t infect Dean.

**

Dean woke up after dozing off, looked around for the clock, only to find that it had been nine hours since Sam had woken up. Momentarily, he thought that the fever must not have hit Sam, that his brother was alright. Slowly, so as not to wake his sleeping brother, he reached for Sam’s forehead, only to find it sweaty, hair stuck to his face, breathing already laboured.

‘Sammy, c’mon kid, get up.’ He still didn’t want to be harsh, gently waking his sleeping brother, who shot upright regardless. Dean watched as wide eyes blinked, pupils expanded, and Sam’s gaze darted around the room like he was looking for someone. When Sam had admitted that every memory included Dean, the elder had been worried that they were bad. But in this moment, just as Sam woke up, he watched the relief cross Sam’s face as he spotted him.

‘Dean.’ Was all that was huffed out, before Sam moved closer, almost hesitantly, like he was afraid Dean would push him away. Sure, Dean was confused about this sudden need for affection, and although he often didn’t like being so close, he was more than happy to do it now.

‘Bad dream?’ It was a boundary that he was crossing, they never spoke of the dreams they had. Dean had his, memories of Hell, and Sam had his. But this time, Dean was beginning to think that he should have been asking. He should have watched over his little brother more, should have asked him if he was okay.

‘Bout’ Gadreel.’ Sam slurred, just as a bolt of guilt hit Dean right in the chest. He wanted to apologise, to tell Sam that it was all his fault that he ever let the Angel near Sammy, that he was so sorry.

‘S’not your fault, De.’ Like he was a mind-reader. The childhood nickname shocked the Winchester, but he didn’t show it, pulling Sam slightly closer. With his baby brother resting mostly on his left side, head against his chest, legs entangled, Dean could practically hear Sam’s heartbeat. They both knew that the fever had hit, but neither was ready to talk about it yet.

‘Do we want to talk about this?’ Sam froze up against him, before hazel eyes looked up, scared and vulnerable. Tears were already shining behind them, and Dean had the urge to bend down and press his lips to Sam’s. Not yet, he scolded, he had to find Sam’s limits for what they had to do.

‘You shouldn’t do it.’ That hurt, felt like ice through his core, watched as Sam pulled away. Once his brother was sitting up, facing him, Dean could see every emotion playing across Sam’s face.

‘Why?’ Soft, not angry, gently trying to figure out why Sam was so adamant that he would rather die. Did it disgust him that much? But then he saw Sam’s hesitation, knew that there was something else.

‘M’not going to hurt you, De. You wouldn’t be able to look at me after. And I can’t,’ the choked off sob made Dean move, on instinct, to reach for his baby brother, ‘Can’t lose you again.’ He didn’t ask for permission, just wrapped arms around Sam and pulled him back down, allowed his little brother to snuggle into his chest.

‘Sammy, would you believe me if I said I wanted this?’ Dean swore it felt like the entire world had stopped, waiting for his brother to respond. Silence, utter silence, before Sam’s croaky voice returned.

‘You making fun of me?’ Oh, how could his baby brother even think that? This time Dean didn’t deny himself, tilting Sam’s head up, staring right into hazel eyes, before flicking his gaze to those soft lips that looked so inviting.

‘Never. It’s always been you, Sammy.’ Truth. Chick-flic moments be damned, that was the truth. Sam looked shocked, hurt perhaps, but a tiny smile crossed over his face. Dean took that as all the invitation he needed, slowly pressing his lips against Sam’s, smirking when he heard Sam gasp.

‘Okay?’ Dean asked, pulling back, trying to figure out if the flush was from the fever or the kiss. Sam looked slightly drugged, hazy, blinking up at him with shining adoration.

‘Yeah, s’okay.’ Chuckling, he let Sam curl back around him, reached for his hair and wrapped his fingers in it. As much as Dean pretended that he thought Sam’s hair was girly, it was actually one of the parts that he liked the most.

‘Was a good memory, at the end.’ He didn’t speak, allowed his brother to continue with the story he obviously wanted to tell.

‘About us. Time I threw you to the floor in the Motel.’ Oh, Dean remembered. His punk-ass little brother had been acting moody for ages, so when Dean tried to be the nice one and find out what was wrong, the kid had thrown him over onto the floor. He’d been released so quickly that Dean had time to catch Sam before he could bolt, pinning him to the floor. Truthfully, Sam squirming under him had been the best bit of that memory.

‘How’s that good?’ Dean asked, running fingers through Sam’s hair, wondering how his brother managed to have it this long.

‘You pinning me down, felt good.’ Sam mumbled into his shirt, just as Dean’s stomach swirled in arousal, trying to fight it down. This wasn’t the time, not now.

‘Yeah?’ God, that came out more raspy than intended. But how else was he supposed to react, with his baby brother saying sinful shit like that?

‘Mm, like you being strong.’ It had to be the fever. Sure enough, Sam’s pupils were almost fully dilated, breathing heavy, and the flush was extending down his neck. Dean watched him shift, moving his hips until Dean had to suck air in, feeling the bulge pressed against his thigh. Having wanted this for so long, Dean honestly wasn’t sure what to do. Not until Sam moved ever so slightly, evidently trying to get friction, and Dean decided that he would take charge. Just for this time, to make sure Sammy wasn’t hurt during the curse. Of course, that was the only reason.

‘Take what you want, Sam.’ He murmured it, tugging slightly at the brown hair so that he could see his brother’s face, but apparently there was a hotwire between Sam’s hair and his groin. Tugging on his hair caused his hips to jerk forwards, a soft whine leaving his lips, and dammit that should be illegal. Dean couldn’t stop himself from dragging Sam up, rolling them so that he was on top of his baby brother, looking down. Sam spread his legs almost instantly, letting Dean settle between them, and the sweatpants were doing very little to hide Sam’s form.

‘What d’you want, little brother?’ Sam’s body twitched at the term, and Dean wasn’t going to analyse that too deeply, just lowering his head to kiss. Sam’s mouth parted, and Dean took the hint, letting his tongue trace Sam’s lower lip, nibbling slightly as he pressed his hips down to meet his brother’s.

‘Dean?’ He had pulled back, was studying the flushed face, trying to memorize the way that Sam looked spread out on his bed. His hands moved slowly, reaching for the hem of Sam’s shirt, not missing the way his brother tensed. Sam had seemed more than into it, was this a limit? Dean paused, studying his brother, trying to work out why he looked nervous, shy, maybe even scared?

‘Don’t want you to see me.’ It only took a minute to understand, and when he did, Dean didn’t fight the growl that passed his lips. Sam looked shocked, Dean slowly working his hands up under the shirt, lowering down so that his lips were back against Sam’s.

‘You think you don’t look good? Think you ain’t pretty? Sammy, fuck, you’re gorgeous.’ Sam whined, this time embarrassment, but Dean wasn’t letting him get away with it that easily.

‘Feel how good you make me, Sam?’ He pressed his hips right against his brother’s, ground down until Sam was moaning, slid his hands further up and taking the shirt with them.

‘Know what I’m going to do to you, little brother?’ Hooded eyes stared up at him, complete trust, and he bit his lip slightly. Dean swooped down for another kiss, before hauling his brother up so he could strip the top off, grinning when Sam fell back down.

‘Gonna’ mark up every inch of this skin, see how worked up I can get you.’ And damn, was that sound worth everything in the universe, Dean thought, moving his lips towards Sam’s neck.


	10. Oooh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy stuff

Sam didn’t really know what was going on anymore. Although he was convinced this wasn’t a dream, he was also struggling with how much of this could be physically real. The fever wasn’t aiding the situation, although Dean seemed pleased by how flushed Sam was looking, a mischievious grin on his face as he ducked his head down to bite Sam’s neck yet again. The younger had no doubt that he would be bruised in the morning, bites scattering his torso, but he didn’t really mind.

‘Damn, Sammy, look how wet you are for me.’ It wasn’t the fever that caused the blush that spread, Sam already knew that the front of his sweatpants was soaked, just from rubbing up against Dean’s denim-clad hips. Trying to turn away from the burning gaze of his brother, only for Dean to grip his chin and turn him back, forcing him to watch as Dean slowly pressed a hand over the bulge in his sweats. And damn, Dean knew exactly what he was doing, knew how hot it made Sam when Dean took control.

‘Want something?’ Dean mocked, but kindly, fingers skirting along the waistline of the sweats. Sam nodded quickly, shooting his brother his best pleading look. It seemed to work, the hand moved down, through the hairs running from his navel and down to his boxers. Sam sucked in air, tilting his hips up towards his brother in a way that he hoped was inviting. Dean just chuckled, seemingly calm, settling back on top of Sam. The weight pinning him down did wonders for Sam, as did the hand that finally moved down and wrapped around him.

**

Dean grinned, listening to the whine that came from his brother as he slowly stroked, using his thumb to brush over the head of Sam’s cock, coaxing precum from it. His little brother was falling apart beautifully, making all sorts of pretty noises for him, and Dean was determined to keep drawing them from the younger. He’d got them both out of shirts, but the jeans were starting to feel constricting, he wanted nothing more than to shed them.

‘De, ‘ma cum if you don’t stop.’ That sounded more like a challenge, speeding his hand up and ducking to seal his lips around one pert nipple, Sam arching off the bed as heat flooded Dean’s hand, working his brother steadily through his orgasm. To Dean’s delight, Sam stayed hard, probably because of the curse. He pulled his hand back, staring down at the dazed expression on Sam’s face as he licked the evidence from his fingers.

‘Taste good, Sammy.’ That blush was adorable, as was the wiggling underneath him, but Dean needed the kid to be still if they were going to continue this. Taking both of Sam’s arms, he pulled them above his head, resting them on the pillow.

‘Stay.’ He hadn't meant to use his strict no-nonsense voice that was usually saved for Hunting, but the result was beautiful. Sam’s dick jerked against his stomach, eyes widening and lips parting, a slight nod the only sign that Sam was actually still sane.

‘Good boy.’ Another flash of lust, Dean noted, moving to remove the sweatpants from his brother. Sam held still, although he did suck in air when the boxers joined, Dean leaning back to admire his baby brother. He did look good, the flush all the way to his collarbone, bite marks littering his neck and torso.

‘What d’you want now, Sammy?’ Dean hinted all the things he was offering, lips marking up one exposed thigh, fingers tracing up the back towards his ass. But Sam, he apparently had other ideas.

‘Wanna taste you.’ Shit, if that wasn’t enough for Dean to almost lose control. He pressed a palm against his jeans, before nodding. Sam moved so quickly, onto all fours and crawling across to where Dean was kneeling. That made some images flick to his mind, but Dean pushed them down as shaky hands reached for his belt, Sam stripping him out of the jeans and lying him back on the bed. Normally, Dean wasn’t one for being manhandled, but he was quite happy to let Sam take control, even if it was only temporarily.

The look of awe was enough to make any man proud, Sam’s fingers carefully reaching out to wrap around Dean’s cock that he had exposed, eyes flicking up to Dean as if he was checking permission. The elder Hunter gave a nod, fingers reaching for Sam’s hair, just as lips wrapped around the head. His hipped bucked instinctively, Sam’s mouth going lax as he forced himself further down, hazel eyes locking with his. Oh, it was too tempting, hands grabbing hair and moving Sam gently. When gently became too frustrating, Dean gripped harder, urging his hips up to Sam’s mouth, the younger swallowing him down with a practice that made the elder want to question.

‘Dammit Sammy, look so good like this, mouth so fuckin’ hot.’ He hadn't really intended to let his mouth start spewing filth, but Sam groaned around him, vibrations bringing him dangerously close to his orgasm.

‘Need to stop kid, otherwise this’ll end sooner than we both want.’ Sam hesitated, before grinning around him, sinking down to the base of his cock in a move that had Dean moaning, hands fisting into hair and holding him down, feeling Sam’s throat work around him. When a hand rolled his balls gently, Dean couldn’t hold back, gasping as he emptied himself right down his baby brother’s throat. Sam swallowed quickly, cleaning him up before pulling back, a slightly smug smile on his face. Embarrassment was still evident, and as Dean fought back the post-orgasmic haze that had taken over, he noted that Sam’s stomach was painted white.

Dean growled, knocking them both back onto the bed, pressing his stomach to Sam’s sticky one, lips closing over Sam’s. His brother squirmed, wrapped legs around his waist, offered his mouth up willingly. It should have been gross, tasting himself, but it just made him hotter.

‘Got off on sucking me, baby brother.’ Sam moaned as Dean ran his hands up strong thighs, gripping tightly and tugging Sam closer. It wouldn’t take him long to get hard, not with the sinful noises and the fact that Sam was still hard, not with the way his baby brother looked right now. They rolled in the sweat-soaked sheets, Dean reaching to the bedside for the lube he had stashed. Sam watched, big puppy-eyes following every movement, a grin spreading when he saw what Dean was reaching for.

Dean was going to stretch himself out, presuming Sam would prefer it, but was stopped when a hand closed around his wrist. His baby brother was staring right up at him, a smile on his face.

‘Wanna feel you, De.’ Jesus Christ, the kid was going to kill him.

‘Yeah, yeah Sammy, we can do that.’ His slicked fingers moved towards Sam, who spread his legs willingly and tilted his hips up invitingly, biting his lip in a move that made him look shy despite the situation. When his fingers brushed lightly over Sam’s hole, the man shuddered, eyes fluttering shut.

‘Done this before?’ Dean didn’t want to have to ask, and from the look that momentarily crossed Sam’s face, Dean could put two and two together. That would need to be talked about, when Sam wasn’t drugged up from a curse, so Dean gently pushed.

The lewd sound that spilled from Sam’s lips had Dean swallowing a similar sound, watching as Sam pushed his hips up to urge Dean’s finger further. He bent down, pressing his lips back to his brothers as he added a second finger, letting Sam wiggle under him as he began to scissor him open. His brother clung to him, hands gripping his bare back in an attempt to ground himself, probably hard enough to leave marks. Dean didn’t care.

‘M’ ready De, need more, please.’ Dean couldn’t deny him anything, letting a third finger join, groaning into Sam’s shoulder as his cock filled, hardening at the sounds coming from the two of them. He knew he was rushing, pulling out his fingers to lube up his cock, moving to position himself between Sam’s legs, but he stopped at that moment. Sam was staring up at him, such plain adoration showing, a smile playing on his lips as he reached up.

Dean allowed the hand to wrap around his neck, pulling him down so that he was pressed to Sammy’s chest, lips close enough to feel the hot breath.

‘S’okay Dean, want this.’ The further the curse got, the less pronounced the words were getting. Or maybe it was the arousal, Dean could understand that, lining himself up and pushing in gently, refusing to drop the eye contact first, waiting till Sam’s eyes rolled back before he squeezed his shut. Ankles locked into the small of his back, pulling him until he bottomed out in the tight heat, nothing but sweat and lube between them.

‘Jesus Sammy.’ He couldn’t help it, the heat was killing him, and he had to move. Sam allowed it, lips parting as Dean pulled all the way back, before snapping his hips forwards. It didn’t take long for Dean to build up a rhythm, rocking the bed against the wall with every snap. Sam was pliant under him, hands gripping Dean’s arms, soundless apart from the breathless whimpers that Dean drew with every deep thrust.

‘Gonna, De, can’t…’ That was alright, Dean moved a hand to wrap around Sam’s flushed cock, pumping hard until Sam seized around him, crying out loudly and exposing the column of skin at his neck. Dean didn’t resist, working him through the orgasm as he nipped at the skin, adding more bruises to the masterpiece. What shocked him was when Sam’s cock stayed hard, heavy against his stomach, and Dean couldn’t take it. He pulled back, flipped Sam over with as much strength as he dared, watched his sexed out baby brother try and get on all fours.

It took little guidance until he was buried back deep, hands wrapped around a slim waist, driving him into the bed as he chased his own orgasm. The new position seemed to be doing wonders for Sammy, moaning like a pornstar underneath him, Dean unable to resist the chance to tease and tempt his brother further. Sam’s fingers were wrapped tightly in the sheets, white-knuckled, before Dean felt the heat building.

‘Sam, god, Sammy.’ His hips faltered, shoving them both to the mattress as he filled his baby brother up, Sam screaming into the pillow and his body tightening around Dean. It was only then that Dean realised he had pushed another orgasm out of his Sammy, slowly rolling them both to their sides, wrapping an arm around Sam’s middle and nuzzling his neck, letting Sam cling to him as he rode out the aftershocks.

‘De?’ The voice was weak, shuddery, but the smile on his face as Dean rolled him to his back was the happiest he had ever seen.

‘Go to sleep, Sam. We can talk later.’ He pressed a brief kiss to Sam’s lips, watching the younger chase after them, the dopey smile spreading to Dean’s lips.

‘N’ more kisses?’ Chuckling, he entwined their fingers, dropping down beside him.

‘Yeah Sammy, more kisses.’ A happy hum came from the younger, before he snuggled back, sweaty and sticky against Dean, but he couldn’t care less.


	11. Sweet endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests, last Chapter guys

Sam woke up, the pounding in his head completely gone. It took him a moment to realise where he was, breathing in deeply when he remembered the events of yesterday. Dean’s arm was slung around his waist, fingers lightly brushing over his skin, which was incredibly sticky. They both needed a shower, Sam especially, so he rolled over to face his brother. Dean looked peaceful, sleeping, and Sam was tempted to leave him. However, Dean was already waking, no doubt because Sam had moved.

‘Mornin’ Sammy.’ His voice was sleepy, rough, and Sam thought he could definitely get used to sleeping next to him. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face, knew Dean had seen it when his brother huffed, running fingers through his shorter hair.

‘Look like a kid at Christmas.’ Well, this was everything Sam could of hoped for. He leant forwards, Dean obliging him and pressing their lips together, the softness of it almost killing him. Dean pulled back first, a similar smile on his face, before he grinned.

‘Morning breath, dude.’ Sam laughed, rolled onto his back and grimaced as the sheets stuck to him. That drew a laugh from Dean as well, who stood up and grabbed his jeans, giving Sam a nice view as he bent to put them on.

‘Stop ogling and get in the shower.’ Dean chucked a shirt in Sam’s direction, which he caught, copying his brother and following him down the corridor with very little clothing on. Dean didn’t seem to care, reaching the shower room and heading straight for the spray, kicking off the jeans as he went. It took Sam a little longer, just because he was too busy staring, before he eventually got with the programme and stepped under.

‘C’mere, Sasquatch.’ Sam let his brother start washing him down, soapy hands moving over his torso, fingers carefully moving over his skin. It felt good, good enough that Sam tipped his head back into the spray, let Dean manoeuvre him until he could wash his back.

‘Hair.’ Dean stated, and Sam didn’t hesitate to drop to his knees. He heard Dean suck in air, but Sam kept facing away from him, moaned slightly as fingers wrapped into his hair. Keeping it long had been the best idea that Sam had ever had, especially with the way Dean was currently tugging and soothing, aiding the blood that was currently rushing south.

Dean’s grip tightened every time Sam made a sound, the younger knowing exactly what he was doing, turning to face his brother and look up under the spray. Dean was staring right back down, green eyes wide, and Sam offered a smile before leaning forwards to nuzzle at Dean’s hipbone, feeling his brother lean back against the tiles.

Eventually, Sam took pity on him, wrapping his hand around the base of Dean’s cock while his lips closed over the head, lightly sucking. The groan that bounced around the room drove him on, Sam quite happy to work what he couldn’t get in his mouth with his hand, the other holding Dean’s hips so he could tease. His tongue worked its way up along the underside, following the thick vein to the flushed head, before doing it all over again.

‘Sammy, need to stop.’ Unlike last night, Sam was going to stop, just at the very moment that Dean was ready. He kept sucking, hollowing out his cheeks as his hand dropped to his lap, stroking his own cock lazily, not needing the extra stimulation. After last night, his balls already ached, and he didn’t even know if he could cum again.

Dean was moaning by the time that Sam pulled off, his brother looking hurt at the sudden loss of pleasure, but Sam was already turning and facing the tiles, hands placed flat, legs spreading.

‘Still open for you, De.’ Sam didn’t miss the way Dean had to grip the base of his cock at Sam’s words, grinning as he went back to facing the tiles. Bottom, he may be, but he wasn’t going to let Dean have all the control.

‘Yeah Sammy, hold on, I got you.’ Sam felt it, the moment that Dean pressed the flushed head of his cock to Sam’s still slick hole, the water aiding what little burn there was. The stretch was beautiful, Sam unable to stop the groan that broke from his lips, tilting his head to the side to allow Dean to rest his head on his shoulder. The height difference wasn’t an issue when Sam bent like this, and it was doing wonders for his prostate, that was hit almost as soon as Dean pushed in fully.

Did Sam care that he was currently making enough noise to wake the Bunker? The answer was no, pushing back into Dean’s thrusts, reaching for his own cock only for Dean to grip his hand, slamming it into the tile and holding it there.

‘You cum on my cock, or not at all.’ Wherever the dominance had come from, Sam wasn’t complaining, already knowing he wasn’t going to last that long, not if Dean kept slamming into him.

‘Harder, please.’ Begging seemed to do the trick, Sam almost losing footing at the way Dean pounded in, hands holding tight enough to bruise. His cock was steadily dripping precum, being washed away as the water ran over them, and Sam tried to warn his brother that he was going to cum pretty soon.

‘Yeah baby, cum for me little brother.’ Sam did just that, crying out loudly and throwing his head back, too much stimulation on his prostate causing his cock to jerk as he spilled onto the floor. Dean called his name, before biting down onto his shoulder and Sam felt heat spread in his abdomen, knew he would be sore for days. Eventually, Dean stopped rocking his hips, pulling out gently and obviously seeing something he liked, a slight groan falling from his lips. Sam could feel it, Dean’s seed dripping from his hole, knew how slutty he had to look.

‘Beautiful.’ Dean mumbled, turning Sam around to kiss him, and Sam couldn’t find an issue with it anymore.

**

Castiel stirred his mug of coffee, Rowena walking in with a smile on her face. The Angel, never usually one to be embarrassed, had left the two Winchester brothers alone in the Bunker last night, but apparently Rowena hadn't. Her expression was smug, Castiel looking at her with a frown.

‘I thought we agreed to leave them alone last night.’ He didn’t want to intrude, not with the two of them, even if he loved them both and wished they would just speak to each other. Rowena chuckled, pouring herself a mug of coffee and sitting down opposite.

‘I did. I just walked past the showers.’ She winked after it, leaving Castiel no doubt that Sam didn’t need to worry about the curse catching up. Just as he went to speak, Mary came into the kitchen, and the Angel tensed. The last thing they needed was confrontation.

‘Easy, I just came for coffee. I don’t need to know what’s going on.’ Then she offered a smile, and Castiel could almost understand. She wasn’t condoning what was going on, just saying if she didn’t have to know about it, then there was nothing to say. Rowena hummed, watching Mary collect some food and then walk back out.

Sam was the next to come in, looking well-rested, despite the bite-marks clearly visible around his neck. Rowena was quick to point them out, Sam quick to blush, and Castiel hid his smile. It didn’t take an Angel to see how brightly he shone now, especially when Dean came strolling into the room, casually like there was nothing different. A smile for his brother, one that caused Sam’s cheeks to tinge red, and Castiel realised something.

Nothing really had changed, just that they both knew how the other felt. It was just like before, the Bunker family against everyone else, and the Angel smiled back while listening to the trio in the kitchen bicker. It would be just fine, Castiel thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, more coming soon!


End file.
